Countdown
by jamesgatz1925
Summary: If you know that January 6th is the birth date of our favorite detective, then you know what our favorite detective and his doctor are doing at midnight: celebrating. I do not own these characters.


As the doctor invaded the detective's mouth with his own tongue, he slowly pushed the tall, moppy headed man onto his back. One arm was cradled under Sherlock's head and the other hand was on his jaw.

"Shall we count down, then, my love?"

"If you insist."

"Oh, I do. I very much do."

Sherlock moaned, "14 minutes."

"Perfect. I want to hear you count down each minute."

"Minute, not second?"

"Second would get distracting." John's tongue invaded Sherlock's mouth again. Sherlock tried to tilt his head _just _enough to see the clock, but John's hand yanked his head back into place. "No, no. Your brilliance can surely tell the time." Sherlock grinned and embraced John again. Seconds later he moaned, "Mmmm, thirteen." against John's lips. John glanced at the clock, Sherlock was right.

"Moving on," John whispered and moved his lips from Sherlock's lips to his neck. He ran his tongue over Sherlock's jugular, moaning as he tasted the sweet salt of his lover's neck. His tongue twisted in swirls everywhere on Sherlock's neck. Near his collar bone, John sucked for the last few seconds, feeling Sherlock squirm and hearing him lose count of the seconds. Finally, by the time there was a deep blue mark on his neck, Sherlock muttered, "T-twelve, John, twelve."

John's eyes found the clock, he let go of Sherlock's neck. "Perfect, sweetheart." John moved his tongue from Sherlock's brand-new hickey to his chest. His hands went from Sherlock's head to around his chest, holding Sherlock in place. "Close your eyes," Sherlock closed his eyes, _as if keeping them open was an option. _John's tongue went back to work. He traced lines all over Sherlock's chest, and at what he counted to be the thirty second mark, John latched on to Sherlock's left nipple and sucked it into hardness, then lightly nipped at it, the ways Sherlock likes it.

"John, I lost count."

"Mission accomplished." John left the left side and strode to the right, repeating the process and listening to Sherlock moan. When John was just about finished with the process, like the last one, Sherlock questioned.

"Eleven?"

"Very good, my sweet." John tongued his way down Sherlock, leaving wet streaks down the pale torso. "What should I look after for the next eleven minutes, baby?" John's tongue was _almost _to Sherlock's cock when his head dipped to the right and he began licking and nipping at Sherlock's hip.

"I have a few ideas," Sherlock whispered, thrusting his hips upwards, catching friction with John's neck. John's tongue licked to the other side, pausing for a moment over Sherlock's swollen head. His mouth opened, and for a second Sherlock was preparing for John's mouth to close over it. Instead, John let his bottom teeth scrape over Sherlock. Not the sensation Sherlock wanted, but nonetheless he moaned and thrust his hips again. John continued to Sherlock's left hip and bit him hard. Sherlock yelped in pain and pleasure and pulled at John's hair.

"The time, love?"

Sherlock whispered, "Ten."

"What's that, dear?" John bit again.

"Ten!" Sherlock yelled, thrusting hips back up into John's neck.

"Ten minutes, eh? Well," John swiped his whole tongue over Sherlock's bite mark, "Let's see if we can make it go quickly, what do you say?" John bit his lower lip. Sherlock viciously nodded. John readjusted between Sherlock's legs and breathed over his length. He licked Sherlock lightly, then in a quick motion sucked all of Sherlock into his mouth. Sherlock gasped and almost sat up, yanking John's hair and stuttering his name. Sherlock was lucky his love's name only has one syllable, because at this point the doesn't even know each syllable of his own name. Luckily, the numbers kept ticking in his mind, so after one minute of John's head bopping up and down, he groaned, "Nine." John noisily slurped excess spit off Sherlock, "Nine?" he whispered.

"Nine." Sherlock begged, trying to push John's head back down.

John got on his knees and grinned down at Sherlock. "You've got some nice marks there, Sherlock."

"Give me more, please."

"Begging? Begging isn't supposed to come until the second minute."

"Oh god," Sherlock murmured, throwing his head back and revealing his neck. John leaned over Sherlock and grasped his neck, lightly stroking his Adam's apple and finally settling his palm on Sherlock's jaw. John ran his index finger over John's lips and let his own hand wander down to his own cock. He lightly stroked. "Joooooohn," Sherlock moaned.

"No, my minute," he stroked himself again. Sherlock whimpered, but this site was marvelous. He moaned again, then let his tongue slip out and catch John's finger, pulling it into his mouth and sucking. John moaned and watched Sherlock suck away. Sherlock tried to reach his cock, but John stopped him. "No." John said sternly, still keeping his attention to himself and Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock felt red hot. Watching John and feeling John's pulse through his finger was intense, but at the minute mark he panted, "Eight, sweetie." John let go of himself as Sherlock lifted his hips and rested his feet on John's shoulders. He tried his best to nudge his bum at John's leaking head, but he couldn't quite get it in. "Patience, my darling." John said, leaning forward and kissing Sherlock quickly. "Turn over. On your hands and knees." He whispered against Sherlock's lips. "Please," he added before taking a handful of Sherlock's bum and squeezing. Sherlock smiled and turned over, then lifted himself to present his luscious ass for John's enjoyment.

John grinned and leaned over Sherlock, whispering in his ear, "I'm going to need two minutes for this, love, so if you'd be so kind as to remind me when two minutes is up, I'd appreciate it greatly." John nipped at Sherlock's ear before disappearing from behind Sherlock. He returned not seconds later. Sherlock heard the lube bottle click open, heard John squeeze it until that awful sound was made, heard John spread it over a few fingers, then felt John pushing at his hole.

"Ahh," Sherlock gasped.

"Relax, my, my," John couldn't think of a noun to describe his Sherlock now, "My, _my Sherlock." _Sherlock grinned and relaxed, resting his head on his folded arms in front of him and arching his back as much as he could. John moaned as he felt Sherlock loosening slightly, then more, then more, and John twisted and added one then two more fingers as Sherlock almost broke into a million tiny pieces under him. John moaned again and smacked his forehead against Sherlock's right lower back, then moaned as he bit tenderly at Sherlock's flesh. John realized he was drooling and decided to put it to good use: he licked all the way up Sherlock's back in one, slow swipe. "Oooooooh," Sherlock let out a loud moan and clenched the sheets underneath him, then growled; he'd lost count. Seconds later he decided to go out on a limb and assume it was time, "Six, John," Sherlock almost shouted, "Six!"

"Wonderful," John breathed and pulled his fingers out of Sherlock. He positioned himself behind Sherlock and squeezed the lube bottle one more time, this time onto his own cock. He pulled at Sherlock's hip with his right hand, and with his left he guided the head of himself into the hole of his other half. He nudged for a few seconds, while Sherlock grew impatient, "Jooooohn," he moaned, snapping John out of his trance of watching himself push in and out of his love. He repositioned for the last time, and with his left hand slowly drove it all home. Sherlock pulled at the sheets and held his breath, adjusting what he needed for John as John held Sherlock's hips with both hands and rested his head against the back of Sherlock's head.

When it was time, Sherlock began to rock his hips to tell John to do the same. "Keep counting." John demanded, and Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and tried his best to remember what number he was on in the first place. Six, he remembered, five is next. _Right?_ Oh, hell, he didn't know. John began ramming away at him and that's all that was on his mind. He moved his hand to grab himself, but John stopped him. "No, baby, not yet, I'll do it, in time." _Oh, fuck, really? _Sherlock thought to protest but he didn't. Instead, he panted, "Five."

"Did you say five, you sexy thing?"

"Yes."

John thrust harder, but not hard enough to make Sherlock come. He was hitting Sherlock just right, but he didn't want Sherlock to come yet, _not_ _yet, _John kept telling himself. They moaned and groaned and squeezed and clenched, and in one minute, Sherlock panted, "Four."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, John, yes! Harder, please!"

"If you insist," John held Sherlock's hips and pulled almost completely out, hearing Sherlock whimper as he did. John caught his breath, which didn't take long, then pushed back into Sherlock almost as hard as he could. He was rewarded with a long, deep, moan from Sherlock's pretty mouth. He let Sherlock catch his breath, then did it again and again and again and again, until, "Three!" Sherlock shouted, John was positive Mrs. Hudson could hear him.

John slowed again. He thrust into Sherlock with an easy yet steady and determined pace. "I love you, Sherlock," John whispered between pants.

"I-uhhhhhhhhggg," Sherlock sighed loudly, "I love-mmmmmmm," Sherlock moaned loudly. He breathed out quickly, "I love you, John-aaahhhhhhhhhh, t-two!" Sherlock groaned. John's groan at this was more like a growl, a territorial growl.

John grinned and pulled his hips off Sherlock, running his hand up Sherlock's back and neck to his hair. "Let's make this two minutes count, love," John took a handful of Sherlock's black curls and yanked him back until Sherlock was on all fours. "I want to hear you, Sherlock, scream it, scream my name."

"JohnJohnJohnJohn!" Sherlock replied, hissing and tugging as John pulled his hair, but John's tug was harder, keeping Sherlock's neck up and in place. John thrust hard, and was rewarded by many, many unrecognizable sounds and moans and _Johns _coming from Sherlock's mouth.

John tugged Sherlock's hair until Sherlock was on his knees in front of John, still getting pounded into by the smaller man. John thrust as hard as he could in this position, while now holding onto Sherlock's hips. Sherlock's hands wandered to above his head and over to the back of John's head, where his fingers entwined into John's hair and pulled. John wished for a second that he had a mirror in front of them so he could see all of Sherlock exposed like this, and once he thought of Sherlock exposed like that he let his hands off Sherlock's hips, pressing one hand to Sherlock's left nipple and the other to Sherlock's hard on. John stroked like a mad man trying to keep pace with his cock being rammed into Sherlock's ass. Sherlock moaned out, "Thirty seconds, John!"

John's tongue made its way to Sherlock's ear, thrusting itself in and out of _that _particular hole that was very sensitive for Sherlock. Sherlock moaned and shouted, "JohnJohnJohn!" over and over, until John got the message and stroked his hand as fast as he could at this angle. "Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, my love," John moaned into Sherlock's ear, and finally, "Happy Birthday, Sherlock," he lustfully whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and biting into Sherlock's neck, feeling Sherlock's cock harden, then feeling his hand being covered by Sherlock's creamy ejaculate. John rode Sherlock through his own orgasm, which at the sounds and feeling of Sherlock coming, wasn't seconds after. Sherlock moaned and pulled John's hair one last time before shuffling away from John, pulling John out of himself, and falling onto the bed.

"That," Sherlock panted, "Was," he moaned once, "Perfect." Sherlock laid still, expecting John to either collapse on top of or next to him, and when he didn't, Sherlock turned onto his back and looked up at John. "John?" he asked. The man in question was still on his knees, still squeezing his eyes shut, and still feeling his cock pulse with orgasm. "Ooooh," Sherlock whispered to himself. He reached up to John and squeezed his still hard self, watching John tick and clench his fists until his knuckles turned white. Finally, John's eyes peeked open and Sherlock let go and instead wrapping his arms around John's neck and pulling the doctor down on top of him. "So, good?" John asked.

Sherlock moaned with delight, "_The _perfect gift, my love. Thank you."

"Only for you, birthday boy."

"Please, I'm hardly a boy. I'm 36 now."

"And not a day over five." John chuckled.

Sherlock bit John's lip and chuckled, "Oh, shut up, you." he kissed John's new lip wound, "Are you tired?"

"Kind of, why? Got other plans?"

"Let's go downstairs and bake me a cake."

"You want to bake yourself a cake?"

"Ooooh yes," Sherlock licked John's lips, "If there's three things I love it's you, birthday cake, and birthday sex."

"I _can _provide all three, so long as you let me use some frosting for, uhm, non-cake purposes." John winked and nipped at Sherlock's upper lip.

"Deal," the birthday boy sighed.


End file.
